Originally published at The Crux
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“No one is trying to kill you. You are in the hospital in Nottingham. We are here to help you.”
These are the words I heard almost exactly three years ago in Nottingham City Hospital, just after I had a pacemaker installed.
The medical practitioner was responding to me after I said, “Just go ahead and get it over with. Kill me. I am tired of waiting around for it.”
I am not too proud to admit that I was convinced they really were trying to kill me.
In early May of 2023, you see, I had a massive, severe cerebral hemorrhage stroke – that’s the technical term for it – and an unusual one.
It was unusual because it was caused by a mycotic aneurysm from infective endocarditis, likely triggered in the wake of another operation, relatively minor, which I’d had in February of that same year.
It was also unusual because I lived to tell of it.
I think about this because assisted suicide is again being debated in England, where I have lived for a decade.
The measure passed the House of Commons last year but died in the House of Lords.
Supporters of assisted suicide
